Dark Blue
by felix-felicis33
Summary: Tired of seeing Kurt build a bad reputation for himself just to get through high school, Santana slips him a love potion, hoping to get some of the old Kurt Hummel back and to get him to make a move on his secret crush, Blaine Anderson. It works...sort of.


Kurt couldn't stand French class. He just didn't see why he should have to sit through lessons in basic French when he was almost fluent anyways. So he didn't go to class; he sat outside underneath the bleachers instead. He didn't skip every class, though; if it was raining or the skanks were already lurking under the bleachers, he would go to French and take a nap at his desk for the period. The teacher didn't typically mind; better he sleep or not show up than grumble under his breath and cause disruption throughout the class.

On one of the days he decided to skip French, Santana joined him at his spot by the bleachers. She didn't keep him company every time, but he appreciated it when she did, as it could get boring sitting for an entire period by himself; it was nice having someone to talk to or just keep company with.

"You need to stop skipping class, Hummel," Santana said, flopping ungracefully down on the grass next to where Kurt was stretched out on his back.

Tipping his sunglasses down his nose, Kurt shot her a derisive look, one eyebrow arching up towards his hairline.

"I don't do it as much as much as you," Santana shot back. She tilted her head back to catch the sun on her face. "I don't see how you think this helps."

"Santana…" Kurt said warningly.

She scoffed, swirling the water around inside the bottle she was carrying.

Kurt pushed his sunglasses back up his nose and closed his eyes. He would have to move in a bit; he couldn't lie out in the sun for too long with his pale skin. When he started to feel warm he sat up and looked around to see if there was a shady spot on the grass so he didn't have to hide out under the bleachers.

Santana was swirling the water in her bottle again, staring down into the liquid as if debating whether or not to drink it. She looked up when Kurt stood. "Where are you going?"

Kurt nodded his head in the direction of the fence marking out the school's boundary. "I need to sit in the shade so I don't turn into a lobster."

He strode off towards the strip of shade, hearing Santana scramble after him. When they were seated once again – Santana in the sun, Kurt in the shadow of the fence – Santana held out her water bottle.

"Want a drink?"

Kurt eyed the bottle suspiciously. "This is water, right? I don't particularly want to get drunk while skipping class; I like to think I'm above that."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Yes, it's water." She shook the bottle and Kurt reached out and took it. It was hot out in the sun, after all.

After a cautionary sip to check it was indeed water, Kurt drank several large mouthfuls and then handed the bottle back to her.

"You going to your next class?" she asked.

Kurt nodded. "It's only French I skip," he replied, somewhat defensively, expecting a lecture about his previous perfect attendance and the redundancy of playing truant.

Santana held her hands up to ward off his impending backlash. "Just checking."

The bell rang then, signalling the end of the class period. It was carried over to them across the playing fields on a warm breeze. Kurt sighed and heaved himself to his feet, holding out a hand to Santana to pull her up.

"Do you feel like you've achieved something by skipping class?" she asked as they started across the fields, Santana swinging the nearly-empty water bottle in her hand.

Kurt didn't answer. He knew Santana meant the question to be deeper than if he felt good about missing that day's French class and he honestly couldn't give an answer to her question. He couldn't honestly say that skipping class to hang out by the bleachers strengthened the hard shell he fought to keep on his skin, but he couldn't say it _didn't_ help, either. He just couldn't risk that being a good student didn't cause cracks to splinter his tough exterior.

He played with the zipper on his leather jacket as they walked towards the school building, unconsciously zipping it up and down, up and down.

"Let's go in this way." Santana grabbed his arm and pulled him round to the back west entrance of the school.

Kurt tried to tug his arm free. "But I have English!" he protested. "It's at the other side." He frowned when her grip only tightened.

"Oh stop pretending that you care about being late," she snapped, still tugging him towards the door.

Giving in to the relentless pulling on his wrist, Kurt followed Santana through the door with a heavy sigh. He didn't mind being late – sauntering into class after the lecture had started helped keep up the chilled, I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude that he worked hard to maintain – but he always did his best to avoid using the back stairwell because-

"Oi, Anderson!" Santana shouted gleefully. A short, dark-haired boy who'd been hurrying up the stairs ahead of them froze, one foot resting on the landing.

Because of Blaine Anderson.

Blaine Anderson was who Kurt used to be: a show tunes-singing, out-and-proud, squeaky-clean student who scuttled between classes with his head down to avoid drawing the attention of those students higher up the food chain than himself. Blaine had transferred to McKinley a year after Kurt had made the decision to build a reputation for himself to prevent him being such a target for slushies and dumpster tosses. When Blaine started attending the school, Kurt had already traded Glee club for spraying graffiti on the changing room walls, designer neckerchiefs for a leather jacket, a perfectly styled coif for artfully disarrayed locks, and rumours about his sexuality to ones about the extent of his rebellion. With his newly gained reputation came the unfortunate side effects of having to ignore or sneer at any student deemed unworthy by those who perched at the top of the school social ladder. So when Blaine Anderson handed him a sheet of essay questions in English on his first day, Kurt had to ignore the jolt in his stomach and the flutter of his heart and sneer, "Nice bowtie, dork."

He'd regretted those words immediately. The light had dimmed in Blaine's pretty hazel eyes and his face had fallen before he'd managed to hitch a mask of indifference on it.

He'd thought about that moment every day since, cursing himself every time.

"Anderson!" Santana called again, climbing up a few more stairs, Kurt reluctantly trailing after her. "Hummel wants to ask you something about your English essay."

Kurt spun to glare at her, throwing a hand out to catch hold of the railing to keep his balance. "What? No, I-"

Blaine finally turned to face them. Kurt's breath left him in a puff of air, like Blaine had snatched it from his lungs. His heart hammered in his chest, a quick hummingbird flutter. His trembling hand slipped off the railing and his mind wiped clear of every regret about his horrible behaviour towards Blaine and every worry about how he could be the one to ruin it all. He climbed the remaining steps separating him from Blaine.

"Yes," he said breathlessly. "I need to ask you about the essay. You're so smart; you are the only one who could help me."

Blaine frowned at him, looking completely baffled. His eyes still flicked between Santana and Kurt every now and then, still expecting a slushie or water balloon to appear from somewhere. "Oh, um- okay." He fidgeted with the strap of his satchel. "What do you want help with?"

Kurt smiled at him – Blaine was cute when he was nervous. "I just-" He paused, unsure why he needed Blaine's help. "I don't really understand the question," he lied.

Blaine hitched his satchel further up his shoulder. "Well, we've got English now, so why don't you just ask Mr-"

"No!" Kurt interrupted, his shout echoing down the deserted stairwell. Blaine blinked at him in surprise. "I don't want- I want _you _to help me."

Blaine narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him. "Is this some kind of dare or practical joke? Because I think I've been tormented enough at this school. This is our senior year – give it up." He turned his back on Kurt and strode off towards the corridor beyond the stairs, checking his watch as he went.

A strange kind of panic gripped at Kurt's chest. He sprinted after Blaine.

"Wait!" He caught hold of Blaine's shoulder before he reached the corridor.

Blaine frowned at him. "I'm going to be late for class. I know you don't care about that, but I do."

"Will you help me? I'm not pranking you, I swear. Please," Kurt pleaded.

Blaine stared at him for a moment, still looking slightly suspicious. "Okay, fine."

Kurt beamed at him. "Thank you so much!"

Blaine smiled tightly at him, before glancing at his watch again and speeding off along the corridor towards their English classroom. Kurt bounded happily alongside him, immune to the astonished and confused stares he was getting from his fellow students. He kept looking at Blaine as they wove through the corridors, admiring his sculpted jaw, full lips, and toned arms. Blaine had such pretty eyelashes and, despite what he'd said in the past, he looked really adorable in a bowtie.

They arrived in class with seconds to spare. Blaine shot to his usual seat at the front of the room with an apologetic smile at their teacher. Normally Kurt sat at the back of the room, but he didn't think twice about dropping into a vacant chair behind Blaine. His choice of seat earned him a look of surprise from Blaine.

He didn't listen to a single word the teacher said all lesson. This wasn't unusual for him in some classes, but he actually liked English and the teacher wasn't a complete dickhead so he normally paid attention. Today, however, he couldn't focus on a single word of the lecture; his thoughts were consumed by Blaine. He spent the lesson with his chin resting on his hand, gazing wistfully at the back of Blaine's gelled head, occasionally doodling absently on a blank page of his notebook. When the bell jarred him out of his daydreams, he looked down to find dozens of love hearts scrawled over the page, the words 'Kurt + Blaine' etched inside each one. He smiled at the page of hearts, before dropping the notebook into his bag.

Students all around him were scrambling to leave the classroom, but Blaine was taking his time placing his books in his bag. Kurt knew he was waiting for the rush in the corridors to die down, reducing the chance he would be tripped up, mocked, ridiculed, or shoved into a nearby locker. Kurt knew this because he used to do it, too. However, Blaine's delayed departure also gave Kurt the chance to talk to him again.

Snatching up his bag, he stepped around his desk to stand by Blaine's.

"I like your bowtie," he said softly.

Blaine fastened up his satchel. "I thought you said they were dorky, implying that I was some kind of dweeb for wearing them," he said angrily.

Kurt cocked his head to one side. "Well, I like them." He watched Blaine stand up and swing his bag over his shoulder, his eyes following the other boy's every movement eagerly.

Blaine eyed him oddly. "Thank you, I guess." He began walking slowly towards the door. "If you want help on the essay I can give you my number and you can let me know when you want to work on it?"

"Sure." Kurt handed Blaine his phone, his heart pounding as he typed his number into the contacts. "I'll let you know when I'm free."

Blaine handed him his phone back. "Okay." He tugged at his satchel strap again. "I should-" He gestured behind him. "I'll see you later." He glanced at Kurt once more before speeding off down the corridor, head bowed and his shoulders slightly hunched.

Kurt watched Blaine until he was swallowed by the crowd and then he began walking slowly to his next class, sighing as he smoothed his thumb lightly over Blaine's contact on his phone.

He was late to class, but the teacher didn't even break sentence when Kurt walked in, so used to him wandering in after the start of the lesson. He slid into a desk at the back of the room and spent the entire period with his chin propped on his hand, staring dreamily at the whiteboard, thinking about Blaine.

Before Kurt knew it the day was over and he was walking to the student parking lot to fetch his car. The last of his classes, the walks through crowded corridors, and lunch with Santana had been a buzz of background noise to his daydreams about Blaine. He imagined dozens of date scenarios for the two of them, countless kisses, and numerous ways that Blaine told him he loved him. He didn't have a clue what had happened in any of his lessons, nor did he particularly care. All that mattered was he had Blaine's number in his phone and he could call him up if he wanted to and arrange to meet him. They could talk and laugh and get to know each other and see how much they had in common, and, and, and-

Kurt paused in the middle of fishing his car keys out of his pocket, his eyes alighting on a familiar figure walking slowly across the far end of the parking lot: Blaine.

Snatching up his keys, Kurt quickly got in his car and drove over to where Blaine was walking, breaking several road rules to get to him before he disappeared. He braked when he neared him, slowing to a crawl and putting down his window.

"Do you want a lift?"

Blaine barely lifted his head, only glancing up disinterestedly, before doing a double-take, coming to a startled halt when he saw Kurt alongside him. Kurt stopped his car.

"Sorry?" Blaine looked dumbfounded.

Kurt rested his arm on his car door, his hand dangling out of the open window. "Do you want a lift home?" he asked again.

Blaine immediately shook his head, looking slightly panicked by the offer. "No thanks, I'm fine walking."

Feeling deflated from the abruptness with which Blaine refused his offer, Kurt tried again in gentler, almost pleading tones. "Are you sure?"

Blaine stared up at him, his eyes hardening. "I don't feel particularly comfortable getting in a car with you – or anyone who has taunted me or acted as though I am some kind of disgusting insect. Surely you can understand why." Hitching his bag strap more comfortably on his shoulder, he spun on his heel and strode off.

Spirits sinking even further, Kurt fumbled for the accelerator and caught up with him.

"I really am sorry about how I've treated you in the past," Kurt said sincerely, driving slowly alongside Blaine once more. He breathed out raggedly around the growing ache in his chest. "People do stupid things in high school to get through each day and make their lives easier, sometimes at the expense of others."

Blaine snorted. "Like how you told Rachel Berry that not even a nose job could give her a face that could be shown on Broadway posters?"

"That wasn't me who said that," Kurt protested feebly.

"Right," Blaine said tersely. "It was your partner-in-crime, Santana." He was staring determinedly ahead as he walked, refusing to look at Kurt. "But you did call her an attention-seeking banshee."

Kurt couldn't think of anything to say to that. He wasn't going to deny it and he could hardly defend his behaviour. Rachel was a bit of an attention whore and she did talk and shriek loudly far too often, but he had no right to point this out so nastily to her in the middle of a crowd of onlookers. He'd done it to maintain his reputation, but he couldn't tell Blaine that.

"I guess I got off lightly with being called a dork and then being ignored," Blaine added. He exited the parking lot and set off down a street leading in the opposite way from Kurt's house. Kurt followed.

"I'm sorry about all of that," Kurt said in a tiny voice, a voice so small he wasn't sure it carried over the sound of the car engine.

Blaine said nothing to this and they continued along the road in silence for a while: Kurt driving slowly, his eyes flicking between Blaine and the road, and Blaine walking alongside his car, still looking fixedly ahead.

"What I want to know is: why the sudden change?" Blaine asked, breaking the silence. "Why are you talking to me all of a sudden, after months of acting as though I didn't exist? Why the offers of lifts home and requests to spend time together?"

"I- I don't know," Kurt replied, frowning in confusion as he realised that he had no idea why he was so desperate for Blaine's company all of a sudden, or why he'd spent a good part of the day thinking about him while doodling love hearts. It was as if all of the carefully built walls in his mind had been smashed down and all the feelings he'd kept locked away behind them had flooded his brain, leaving him drunk on them. "I don't know," he repeated, watching the road almost without seeing it as he tried to understand why his behaviour had changed so abruptly. His frown deepened – it had happened around the time he'd seen Blaine for the first time that day, on the stairwell on the way to English.

"Kurt?"

Kurt tried to remember if he'd been considering making amends with Blaine recently, but an odd fuzziness was fogging up parts of his brain, making it difficult to think and remember.

"Kurt?"

Still frowning, Kurt looked out at Blaine who was watching him with some concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You look a little…" He trailed off, apparently unable to describe how Kurt looked.

"I-" Kurt racked his brains, trying to understand what was wrong with him – what was off. Then he remembered something.

"Santana…" he muttered. His frown turned into a glare – he was going to kill her! She had promised there was no alcohol in that water bottle he drank from.

"Kurt?" Blaine said again.

Kurt slowed his car to a stop at a red light, glancing fleetingly over at Blaine to see him stopped, too. "I think Santana gave me alcohol to drink earlier."

"You're drunk!" Blaine squeaked. "And you're driving?!"

Kurt shook his head jerkily. "Not drunk, just…tipsy," he replied slowly, as if testing the weight of the words as he spoke them. He still wasn't entirely convinced this was the reason for his behaviour and the odd feeling he was experiencing. It didn't seem right.

Blaine had moved closer to the car and was scrutinising him closely. "Are you sure I shouldn't be giving _you_ a lift home?"

"I'm fine," Kurt assured him, echoing Blaine's earlier response.

Blaine didn't look convinced, but he didn't mention it again, though he shot Kurt a concerned look as they crossed the intersection and continued down the road.

"Well, I'm going this way," Blaine announced, awkwardly gesturing to a road leading off to the left. "It was nice…taking this journey with you."

For a moment, Kurt thought of continuing to follow Blaine, reluctant to see him go already, but he didn't want to look as though he was stalking him.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow." He gave Blaine a little wave, smiling when it was returned.

He watched Blaine walk down the street until a car passed him where he was stopped on the road, blaring its horn. The sudden loud noise jolted him from his trance and he shifted his car back into gear and drove home.

Kurt woke up the next morning with a headache and an uncomfortable sick feeling. He blinked in confusion at the alarm bleeping from his phone, before the fog in his head cleared enough for him to be able to lean over and switch it off.

Slumping back on the pillows, he groaned, using his hand to shield the bright morning light from his eyes. He felt like he had the morning after Santana's last party when Puck spiked everyone's drinks. It took him several long moments of searching through the muddled mess of his head to remember why he felt this way: Santana had let him drink from a spiked water bottle.

He groaned again, threw back his duvet, and, with a lot of effort, got out of bed. Despite his hangover he had to go to school to shout at Santana.

It took him twenty minutes longer than usual to get ready, even with him skipping breakfast in favour of popping a couple of pain pills. He was late to school, but he didn't care. The teacher glowered at him when he dragged himself into class. He ignored her, slumping down in his chair and trying to remember everything that had happened the day before.

After only a few minutes of memory searching, Kurt sat up straight, a frown on his face. He remembered only feeling a little tipsy yesterday and he had only drank a few mouthfuls of water that had most definitely tasted of water – so why did he feel like this today?

He was so out of it that he went to French class without thinking. He realised his mistake ten minutes into the period and cursed himself for missing an opportunity to confront Santana. He thought about just walking out of class, but he knew Santana was bound to have gone to her lesson, so he stayed, spending the period puzzling over his memories of the day before.

It was only when he arrived in English that Kurt remembered the extent of his behaviour around Blaine. He flushed when Blaine smiled tentatively at him, feeling confused and angry at himself. He couldn't believe that being a little tipsy had been enough for him to forget all the rules he had set for himself. He had made a complete fool of himself, mooning after Blaine Anderson. He just hoped word of his behaviour hadn't reached the ears of his former tormentors; they were waiting for any excuse to knock him down from his spot on the social ladder and to show everyone that he wasn't the tough, rebellious bad boy he claimed to be.

Kurt fought the urge to bang his head off the desk when he opened his notebook and saw all the hearts sketched inside. He was going to make Santana buy him coffee every day for a month to make up for this.

Kurt spent the lesson debating about whether or not to text Santana to let her know she was in trouble. On one hand, he wanted to let some of his anger at her out now, but on the other, what she had done was too despicable to discuss over text messages. He was so caught up in this that he didn't realise class had ended until over half of his classmates had already left the room. He stuffed his things into his bag and headed for the door, hoping to avoid Blaine. To his dismay, Blaine looked round and caught his eye before he could reach the door.

"I take it you got home okay last night, then," Blaine said, hooking the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "I was worried about you, you were acting…odd."

Kurt couldn't bring himself to do what he ought to: to be cold and dismissive towards Blaine, to put things back to the way they were. Instead, he smiled shyly. "I was just a little out of it. I'm going to yell at Santana for tricking me into drinking, though – don't worry."

Blaine nodded. "It was a crazy thing for her to do."

"Crazy is what she does best," Kurt replied.

Biting his bottom lip, Blaine fidgeted with the strap of his bag in a nervous gesture Kurt was finding increasingly endearing. He hesitated, and then said, "Did you still want my help for your essay?"

Kurt's head and heart battled for dominance. His head was telling him to say no and sever his ties with Blaine before they got any closer, while his heart was screaming at him to spend as much time with Blaine as possible. It didn't take long for one of them to win.

"I do. I just need some free time so we can meet to work on it – maybe this weekend?"

Blaine smiled brightly, nodding again. "Sure, just text me and let me know."

Kurt found himself smiling back, a genuine, natural smile that went with the swooping sensation in his belly. Blaine's smile wasn't something he saw too often, but he'd never been able to help himself from staring whenever he had seen it. That smile never failed to soften the hard mask Kurt kept meticulously on his face.

"Okay," Kurt said. "I'll let you know."

Kurt thought about the proposed study session with Blaine during his next class, trying to decide if he could get away with it. By the time he was walking to lunch he had settled it in his mind: it would be a one-off thing, no one else would have to know about it, and he could go back to ignoring Blaine at school afterwards. There would be no risk to his image. He could still get through school without people bothering him.

When he entered the cafeteria and spotted Santana sitting at their usual table, he remembered the reason why he had to worry about his image again. He marched over to their table, his anger spiking once more.

"What the hell did you do that for?" he snarled, throwing himself down on the seat opposite her.

Santana barely glanced up from her salad. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"The water bottle you gave me yesterday," Kurt snapped impatiently.

Popping a wedge of tomato into her mouth, Santana chewed thoughtfully. "I would have thought you'd be thanking me. You've been panting after him for months, it was pitiful to watch."

Confusion rendered Kurt speechless for a moment. He watched Santana eat a little more of her salad, trying to make sense of her response, but he could make neither head nor tail of it. "What?" he said eventually.

Santana glanced up briefly from her lunch. "Well, it finally got you to make a move on Anderson, didn't it? You wouldn't have done it on your own."

"I haven't made a move on- _What?_" Kurt spluttered. He was becoming more confused by the second and he felt himself getting more flustered with it.

Setting down her fork, Santana finally gave him her full attention, looking at him long and hard. Realisation dawned on her face, annoyance quickly following. "Damn, it didn't work," she muttered, talking more to herself than Kurt. "How can a love potion not work?"

Kurt's eyes widened, his mouth falling open in shock. A love potion. Santana had put a love potion in the water bottle she'd given him. That's why he'd been acting strangely, that's why he felt as though he had a hangover. It also explained why she'd insisted they use the back entrance on the way to class. He knew love potions made you infatuated with the first person you saw after drinking them, and Santana knew Blaine always took the back stairs to class.

Anger surged through him.

"You gave me a _love potion_ so I'd fall in love with Anderson? Nerdy, bowtie-wearing, gel helmet-headed, Glee Club loser, Anderson?" Kurt fumed. "What the hell, Santana?!"

"You already like him!" Santana protested, waving her fork in the air to emphasise her point. "All I hoped the potion would do is make you act on your feelings and then when it wore off you'd see what an idiot you were being by burying your crush and then you and Anderson would have your sickeningly cute happily ever after." She stabbed a piece of red pepper with her fork and pointed it at him. "I'm sick of you pretending to be this tough, rebellious guy when what you really want to do is wear waistcoats and sing show tunes with Anderson." She chewed the piece of pepper thoughtfully. "That's probably why it didn't work: you didn't need to fall in love with him, you needed the balls to tell him his tiny body turns you on – damn."

Resting his forearms on the table, Kurt leaned across it to hold Santana's gaze, needing her to remember one important thing.

"You know why I have to be this way; you know why I can't do anything about how I feel about Blaine," he implored in a low voice. "I can't go back to that hell, not with my dad's health being the way it is."

"It isn't long until graduation; I doubt they'll have the time to bother you."

She could have been right, but Kurt was reluctant to find out. Her words had also reminded him of something else.

"No, it isn't long until graduation," he agreed. "And after we graduate I'll never see Blaine again, so what's the point?"

He ignored the sharp pulse of pain these words caused. He didn't want to lose Blaine forever in a few months' time. They may not have spoken much, and they may not exactly be friends, but Kurt hated the thought of never seeing him again, of that bright smile and hazel eyes being gone from his life. He wished Blaine, adorable doe-eyed Blaine, would be sucked into a hole or move to another country so Kurt could go back to a time when Blaine wasn't keeping a hold of some piece of him and permanently occupying a part of his mind. He wished Blaine had never transferred to McKinley, where day after day he had been threatening to crumble to dust the image Kurt had worked so hard to create.

Santana had a knowing smirk on her face. "I heard he's going to New York for college, as well." Her smile widened at the little start Kurt gave at this information, at the flood of relief and hope that washed over his features.

"Anyway, it wasn't just about you getting it on with Anderson," she added. "I hoped the potion would bring back the real Kurt, make you realise there are things more important than your image in high school."

Kurt shook his head helplessly. "Santana, I- I can't. I tried being myself and the bullying was too much. You know what it's like – how can you expect me to be my out and proud self in this school?"

Swallowing her last bite of lettuce, Santana gathered up her trash and got to her feet. "Anderson manages," she pointed out, before striding away, leaving Kurt staring after her, his mind reeling.

Kurt ignored Santana for an entire week. His anger at her attempts to interfere with his life fizzled out after two days, but he stubbornly avoided her for longer for the principle of it. She had no right to try and force him out if his comfort zone and back into the world of slushies, slurs, and bruises. He would never accept any food or drink from her again. She tried to apologise to him several times and sent him numerous texts, most of which he deleted, unread. He refused to give in; he would talk to her when he was ready.

He avoided Blaine at school as well, turning to walk in another direction when he saw him in the hall and deliberately arriving late to English and rushing out as soon as the bell rang. He was horrified at the way he had behaved under the influence of the love potion, how he had followed Blaine around like a pining puppy dog. He couldn't let that happen on school grounds again.

He did meet up with Blaine on Saturday morning to discuss the English essay with him. He debated long and hard about it, but in the end decided he couldn't avoid him completely, the pull he felt towards him was too strong to ignore. He fabricated some difficulties with the essay question and spent several hours discussing it with Blaine. He sat and listened to Blaine's voice for most of the time and admired the way the other boy waved his hands around enthusiastically as he talked, shooting Kurt a wide smile every now and then. Kurt didn't really care about the essay; he just loved spending time with Blaine, though it was also nice to talk about school work with someone instead of pretending he wasn't interested.

After his week of letting Santana stew over how wrong she'd been, Kurt joined her at their usual table for lunch. He sat in silence, waiting for her to speak first.

She set down her fork and sighed heavily when she saw him. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I really am. It was a stupid idea."

Kurt nodded. "It really was – but, I forgive you."

"Good," Santana said primly. "But I still think you should let things go a little. Do you really have to skip classes and graffiti the school?"

Kurt didn't know how to respond to that. He had thought by showing a blatant disregard for school rules and flirting with the law he could hold a reputation that would keep his tormentors at a safe distance, but did he really have to go that far? Did he really have to hide himself completely? With his reputation firmly in place and graduation fast approaching, no one would probably care if he relaxed his attitude and let his true self bleed back into his image. He used to be so brave and sure of himself; he wanted that back.

Santana seemed to know what was going on inside his head. "I have your back, Kurt. No shit-headed homophobe will ever hurt you while I'm around." The bell rang and she gathered up her things. "I'm not saying you should ditch everything and show McKinley your Vogue-loving, neckerchief-wearing, jazz hands ways, but you don't have to be completely miserable either."

She got to her feet and made to leave, pausing when something across the cafeteria caught her eye. She leaned back down.

"And that puppy-eyed hobbit over there totally wants to bang you. It would be such a waste to not take advantage of that."

Kurt looked over in the direction she had been gazing in and met Blaine's eyes. The other boy blushed and quickly ducked his head, scrambling to pick up his books before darting from the room. Santana chuckled, before sashaying off, Kurt following slowly after.

Kurt's next class actually managed to hold some of his attention, keeping his mind mostly away from thoughts of Blaine and his discussion with Santana. The class that followed, however, consisted of an entire period going through a test Kurt had aced. Finding it to be a complete waste of time, Kurt simply got up and walked out, leaving behind an exasperated teacher and envious classmates.

He walked slowly through the empty corridors with no real destination in mind. Wanting to avoid a tedious lecture from any passing teachers he may come across, he stuck to the corridors he knew to be quiet and soon found himself making his way down the back stairwell. Lost in his thoughts and barely paying attention to where he was going, he rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and ran smack into someone.

Stumbling backwards, he automatically grunted in annoyance. He scowled when he regained his balance, about to growl at the person to watch where they were going – but then he saw who he'd collided with: Blaine.

Blaine looked flustered: a blush on his cheeks and panic in his eyes. He clutched his bag close to his body and hunched his shoulders, making himself even smaller than he already was. When his gaze landed on Kurt, the panic dimmed slightly.

Kurt's annoyance vanished as quickly as it had flared up.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, lifting a hand to rest it on Blaine's shoulder until he thought better of it and let it drop. "I wasn't looking where I was going and I- I'm so sorry."

Eyes darting around the deserted stairwell, Blaine smiled stiffly. "It's not your fault; I was standing in a stupid place." He peered down the empty corridor leading off the stairwell. "I'd better get to class." He turned to hurry off, but Kurt reached out for his shoulder again, this time placing his hand there and stopping him. Blaine spun back around, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Why are you hiding in the stairwell?" Kurt asked.

He knew that there was only one explanation for Blaine being there. From what he knew about him, Blaine would never skip a class on purpose, and he didn't like to linger anywhere around the school in case any of the sneering, bullying jocks found him. The only reason Kurt could think of for Blaine skulking under the stairs after class had begun was that he was hiding from his tormentors. Kurt's stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought.

Blaine hesitated, glancing quickly around them again, before seeming to shrink in on himself, his forehead creasing into a frown. "I ran into Karofsky and some of those other guys on my way to class. They pinned me against the lockers and threatened to lock me in one of the portable toilets out by the football field if they saw me again today." He clutched at the strap of his satchel and stared down at his shoes, his shoulders still hunched over. "Two of those guys are in the Math class I'm supposed to be in just now." He lifted his head, teeth peeking out to bite his bottom lip. "I couldn't risk it," he whispered.

Kurt scowled, anger at the meatheads who threatened Blaine surging through him, flowed by a pang of old memories from his time before he built up the shell he wore today.

"I know how you feel," he empathised gruffly. "It's awful feeling scared at school – somewhere you can't escape."

Blaine straightened up, his eyes narrowing into a glare. "How do you know what it's like? You're one of them!" he accused angrily. The blush was gone from his cheeks and his nervous hands dropped into fists by his sides. "People turn the other way when you come down the hallway, they avoid your eye in class – they're scared of you! You've said hurtful things to people – that's bullying, Kurt!"

Kurt felt as though all the air had been punched out of him. He gaped dazedly at Blaine, mouth hanging open and eyes wide with both shock and horror; shock at Blaine's sudden angry accusation and horror at it being the truth. He stumbled backwards until he fetched up against the wall under the stairs. Legs trembling, he slid to a crumpled heap on the floor, his eyes staring unseeingly ahead.

Blaine was right: he _was_ a bully. All those times he'd nastily pointed out people's flaws, had sneered at a nervous student passing him in the halls, had called people names – that was _bullying_. He may have only done it occasionally to keep up his own image, but he'd still hurt people. The worst part was, he'd done it stop himself from being bullied. He was a despicable person.

"I never meant to call you a dork," he murmured. Blaine walked over and stood in front of him, looking down at the top of his head. "I never meant to hurt anyone. I was just trying to stop myself from getting hurt."

He could feel Blaine's confusion as though it were radiating from him in tangible waves. Very few people knew or remembered what it had been like for him before he changed his behaviour and image. Thankfully, nearly everyone who had known him before seemed to have accepted that it had just been a passing phase for him and how he was today was the true him. He didn't really want to bring it all up again, but he was sure Blaine was someone he could trust. After all, Blaine was out and comfortable in his skin; he didn't have to hide. He was the picture of what Kurt wished to be. Besides that, Blaine was a genuinely nice person; he wouldn't share his secret with the school.

Kurt took a deep breath in an effort to settle his racing heart and squirming stomach.

"I used to be like you," he began in a low voice. He didn't dare look up to see Blaine's reaction, instead speaking to the floor. "I used to come to school and be the same person I am at home. I didn't always hide behind this." He gestured at himself, waving his hands to encompass everything from his mussed hair to worn-out biker boots.

There was a scuffling sound and then Blaine appeared in his field of vision, sitting down on the floor in front of him, his legs crossed. His expression wasn't sceptical or even pacifying like Kurt was expecting, instead he looked genuinely interested and mildly concerned, his brow furrowed slightly as he listened to what Kurt was saying. For some reason this made Kurt more nervous. He'd been anticipating Blaine to not really listen, scoff at him, and then never speak to him again. The prospect of Blaine empathising and offering support threw him off, despite being what he deeply ached for.

"In the early days of high school I dressed in the fashionable, sometimes outlandish outfits I wanted to wear, I sang in Glee Club, and happily discussed fashion and Broadway and face creams in the hallways. I hadn't come out to anyone, but everyone at McKinley presumed I was gay and treated me as they saw fit."

He paused to collect himself and saw Blaine blinking away his surprise. Kurt supposed he should feel pleased that his badboy image had been good enough to erase memories of his true self from the school and successfully hide his sexuality, but he only felt tired.

"I was treated the same way you are now by the same group of ignorant jackasses: shoved into lockers, thrown in dumpsters, sneered at, pelted with food – they also prank called my dad and threatened to spray paint insults onto the walls of his garage to detract customers. After a while I couldn't take it anymore and became who I am today. I thought that by wearing leather, showing a disregard for school rules, and spreading rumours about fake rebellion I'd get left alone." Kurt met Blaine's eyes, a tiny spark of hope zinging through him at the understanding and realisation he saw there. He gave the other boy a tight smile. "And it worked."

Blaine stared at him for a long moment, digesting everything he had just learned. "Kurt…" he said eventually, his voice quiet.

Kurt held up a hand to stop him from saying anything else. "I know it was stupid," he said bluntly. "I know it was cowardly – but I didn't think I could survive the rest of high school being treated like that every day." He hunched his shoulders, suddenly becoming defensive. "I'm not like you. I can't be a hero for bullied gay teenagers."

Blaine opened his mouth, changed his mind, and then closed it again. Instead, he shuffled forward until he was sitting closer to Kurt, close enough to hesitantly reach out and take his hand.

Kurt looked down at their clasped hands, enjoying the warmth and comfort such a simple gesture gave to him. He couldn't help but notice how things had switched around; how he had become the vulnerable boy with the hunched shoulders and lowered eyes while Blaine was the pillar of strength and comfort.

"Do you know why I transferred here?" Blaine asked. When Kurt shook his head, he continued, "I moved to McKinley because I got beaten up by a group of older students for attending a Sadie Hawkins dance with a male friend. I was injured so badly I ended up in hospital."

Kurt's lips parted in horror and he lifted his head to look at Blaine. He'd had no idea why Blaine had transferred – he was too insignificant to the school's gossip mills and Kurt had never given it much thought. He had no idea the reason behind his move was something like this.

Blaine responded to his stricken look with a small smile. "After that I was too scared to go back to that school, so I came here instead. My parents wanted to send me to a private school with a strict anti-bullying policy, but they couldn't afford it. A new school and a fresh start was the best they could offer me."

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, Blaine locked eyes with Kurt and held his gaze. "I ran, Kurt," he said quietly, hints of regret in his tone. "When it became too much I ran away rather than confront my tormentors. I let them drive me away. I let them win, and that's something I really, really regret."

Kurt cleared his throat roughly. "Are you saying pretending to be someone I'm not will be something I regret in later life?" he asked, trying to gain some of his bravado back, but failing when his voice shook and cracked over his words.

Blaine shook his head. "I'm saying that everyone has their weak moments, but you shouldn't let them define you. When you hit the bottom you shouldn't stay hiding down there, you should get your strength back and climb back up." He smoothed his thumb over one of Kurt's knuckles. "You may not regret building this image of yourself, but you'll probably regret letting the bullies control who you are and how you behave."

Kurt ducked his head again, unable to continue looking at the empathy and gentleness in Blaine's eyes. Blaine was right: he already hated that a group of meat-headed jocks had so much control over his life. Blaine regretted not facing the bullies at his old school and was making up for it by not letting them affect him at McKinley; he was doing the admirable thing. Kurt had created a bad reputation for himself to protect him from the bullies. It didn't take a genius to see which choice was the healthier, better one.

"You just need to have courage, Kurt," Blaine said softly. "Take it one day at a time and try not to let the bad moments bring it all crashing down again. You can do it. You have the strength for it, I know it. You just need to hold your head up and take the plunge. You can be _you_ again."

Exhaling, Kurt looked up to meet soft honey eyes. He felt breathless and shaky and _right_ in a way the love potion had never made him feel around Blaine. He'd never known another person to bring him this much comfort, yet at the same time still send his pulse racing and nerves tingling. He remembered how Santana had guessed the reason the love potion hadn't worked on him was because he had already fallen for Blaine. That may be true, but now he also suspected it was partly because no synthetic substance could re-create what he felt for Blaine; no potion could manufacture the connection that thrummed in the air between them. He sucked in a tiny breath when Blaine's thumb circled his knuckle again, his heart skipping.

Blaine held his gaze for a long, timeless moment and the air around them thickened until Kurt struggled to fill his lungs. His head spun and thinking straight became near impossible. Blaine continued to caress Kurt's hand almost absently as if he couldn't help but do it, the action seeming as unconscious and necessary to him as breathing. Eventually, Blaine swallowed and broke their eye contact, looking down at their joined hands instead.

"Besides," he said, suddenly sounding shy. "It'll soon be graduation and people will have other things to worry about than the fact Kurt Hummel has stopped wearing leather jackets and biker boots."

Kurt was no longer thinking about his image at school, his mind focused on golden eyes, gentle hands, and pink lips. "Blaine?" he whispered.

Blaine looked up, his eyes questioning. At the look on Kurt's face his lips parted, his breath puffing out in a soft exhale that brushed Kurt's cheek as he leaned in closer.

Kurt half-expected Blaine to pull away when he kissed him. Despite the spark of attraction between them and their recent blossoms of friendship, they had barely interacted in the time they had known each other, and Kurt had still insulted Blaine and joined in on some of the taunting behind his back. He was both relieved and thrilled when Blaine pressed back against him, his lips moving against his own, and his hand reaching up to softly cup Kurt's face.

After several long moments, Kurt turned his head away, breaking the kiss. He tilted his forehead against Blaine's, breathing in short pants. He kept his eyes closed, letting Blaine's closeness wash over him in soothing waves.

"I think I can do it if you're there with me," Kurt breathed. "I think I can stop hiding."

Blaine nudged his nose gently against Kurt's, making him smile. "We can face anyone who tries to hurt you together."

Kurt exhaled, a strange mixture of happiness and sadness flowing through him. "Thank you," he said after a period of silence.

"What for?"

"You shouldn't be this sweet to me. You have every right not to like me."

Blaine shifted against him and Kurt opened his eyes when he pulled away from him. Blaine shook his head, a frown creasing his forehead once again.

"Don't say that," Blaine beseeched. "Yes, you haven't been the most pleasant person, but you're building yourself up in your own head to be far worse than you really were." He took Kurt's hand and squeezed it again, in a way that was almost insisting, like he was willing Kurt to see things from his point of view. "I forgive you," Blaine continued, his voice stronger, sincere. "And you have no say in who I can or can't like."

Kurt swallowed thickly. "You haven't made the best choice in liking me."

Blaine leaned back in close. "I don't think that's true," he whispered, before pressing his lips to Kurt's, kissing him in a way that stole Kurt's breath and his doubts about Blaine's faith in him.

* * *

"You ready?"

It was the Monday morning after Kurt and Blaine's meeting under the stairs. After a weekend of mulling over Blaine's and Santana's words, Kurt had decided it was past time he dropped the bad boy shield and be himself. He would no longer let the bullies control his life; he wouldn't let them win. He'd ditched the leather jacket and biker boots and was wearing a far more fashionable outfit that had been restricted to being worn in his home for far too long. His hair was no longer mussed, but elegantly styled, swept up in a neat coif. He was Kurt Hummel once again.

Heart racing and nerves tightening his dry throat, Kurt nodded. He turned away from the entrance to McKinley High School to face Blaine and felt the tension in his muscles ease a little.

"I'm ready," Kurt confirmed. The reassuring smile Blaine gave him in response gave him the final shot of courage he needed to start walking towards the doors. Before he could go more than a few steps, however, Blaine stopped him.

"Wait!"

Confused, Kurt stopped and looked back at him. Worries that Blaine was having second thoughts about him doing this sprang into his mind. He hoped that wasn't the case; he'd spent the entire weekend working up to this moment.

Blaine closed the small distance between them. "You forgot one last thing." He stretched up and pecked Kurt on the cheek. A smile bloomed across Kurt's face in response.

Blaine dipped his head in a tiny nod, apparently satisfied. "Let's go."

Walking up to the front doors of the school felt a lot like walking to the gallows. They had chosen a time to arrive when they knew the parking lot outside would be relatively empty of people, but Kurt was expecting a full backlash when he stepped inside the school. He braced himself when they reached the steps leading up to the doors, inhaling as deeply as he could to try and settle his hammering pulse and churning stomach. Half way up the steps, warm fingers brushed his wrist and he looked down to see Blaine's hand sliding into his own. He returned the pressure gratefully, only dimly worrying about the additional implications their hand-holding would have once everyone saw them; the comfort and Blaine's presence far outweighed the risks.

They walked into school hand-in-hand. Shock was the main response to Kurt's changed appearance. At first people didn't recognise him as he walked to his locker alongside Blaine, but then the whispers started, the double-takes, and disbelieving looks, and then everyone was gaping openly at him. Some stared silently at him, stunned disbelief on their face; others whispered to their friends, the mutters travelling along the corridor in a low buzz until people further down the hall were craning their heads to see him coming. Even teachers were staring.

Kurt kept a vice grip on Blaine's hand and determinedly avoided looking at any of the people he passed. He was both grateful and pleased that Blaine didn't shrink away from the whispers and stares. His strength helped Kurt down that hallway.

"You're doing great," Blaine said softly when they stopped at Kurt's locker. "Just remember: you're the bigger person for doing this, not anyone who insults you." He squeezed Kurt's hand. "I'll see you in English."

To Kurt's surprise, the rest of the day went by as the morning had done, with nothing but whispers and stares. Though this got on his nerves after a while, it was easy enough for him to ignore, especially since he spent most of the day with Blaine and Santana.

Santana had been delighted that he'd ditched his old look. She'd surprised him by telling him she was proud of him, before pulling him into a tight hug. He knew she cared about him, but he didn't realise how strongly she'd felt about him faking who he was at school. She even thanked Blaine for everything he'd done to help and had smiled at the pair of them, a satisfied look in her eyes.

The nasty remarks and insults started the next day. Everyone who had used to bully Kurt at the start of high school were back catcalling and shouting abuse at him. At first Kurt was scared and withdrawn, craving the safety of his leather jacket and bad attitude, but gradually the insults penetrated less deeply and he was able to brush their comments off. With the support of Blaine and Santana, he was soon able to walk through the school without fear. He was the bigger, better person for not hiding who he was and for ignoring their childish remarks.

Blaine, too, was benefiting from Kurt's new look and confidence. He no longer hung back after class until the corridors had started to empty and he stopped using only the back stairs. Instead, he walked between classes with his head held high, sometimes holding Kurt's hand like they'd done on that first day. His spike in confidence threw the bullies off and they didn't target him as much, though Kurt also suspected Santana had threatened them, making them reluctant to bully Kurt and Blaine.

It didn't take long for the bullies to mostly give up on tormenting Kurt and Blaine. Between the lack of response to their actions and looming graduation, they stopped bothering them as much. It was only after the jeering in the corridors had reduced that Kurt realised he hadn't told Blaine about the love potion.

"Remember that day I thought Santana had spiked my water bottle?" Kurt asked Blaine as they sat down to lunch with Santana in the cafeteria one day.

Blaine nodded while Santana rolled her eyes. "I did not spike that water," she protested, slapping her tray of food down on the table and dropping into the empty chair across from Kurt.

"Oh, but you did," Kurt argued. "Just not with alcohol."

Santana shrugged, but Blaine frowned in confusion. "Then what-?"

"She spiked it with a love potion."

Blaine's confused look smoothed into one of stunned surprise. "A love potion," he echoed. His eyes flicked between Santana and Kurt, as if trying to catch one of holding back a laugh at their joke. When Kurt nodded in confirmation and Santana just looked at him over a forkful of rice, the sceptic expression vanished. "Where did you get a love potion from?"

"Weird shop near the Lima Bean sells them," Santana replied bluntly. "Girl on the Cheerios used one on Greg Varney a few months' ago. They're dating now; he never noticed her before."

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "Greg Varney, really?"

Blaine interrupted before the gossiping could start. He looked at Santana. "So you gave Kurt a love potion without his consent?" he exclaimed, sounding affronted.

"I hated seeing him pretend to be someone he wasn't. I gave him the potion in the hope it would help him be himself again," Santana explained. "And it worked – in a roundabout way."

Blaine turned to look at Kurt slowly, his face pale and eyes filled with something Kurt couldn't quite read. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He swallowed.

"S-so, you fell in l-love with…?"

Sudden understanding hit Kurt and he hastened to reassure Blaine, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "No! No, the potion didn't work properly. I didn't fall in love with anyone. I just…acted oddly."

Santana snorted. "Turns out those potions make people who've already got it bad for someone behave like a drunken idiot around them."

Blaine blinked at Kurt. "You-"

Heat bloomed across Kurt's cheeks and he glared at Santana. Already he could see the flickers of understanding in Blaine's eyes. He wished he could wipe the smug grin off Santana's face. She winked at him when she saw his thunderous expression.

"You already liked me?" Blaine whispered. "Even before you started speaking to me?"

"That's why he ignored you," Santana explained smugly. "He was smitten and was worried that liking you would ruin his image." She shook her head at Kurt. "Idiot. But Auntie Tana stepped in and made you both see the light and now you can be disgustingly adorable together." She got to her feet and scooped up her half-eaten lunch. "I accept payment in the form of coffee, that fancy-ass moisturiser Hummel uses, and Breadstix food." And with that she nodded at them and marched off, leaving them alone.

After watching her go, Kurt nervously faced Blaine again, biting down on his bottom lip. Blaine wasn't as bashful, though his cheeks were also stained red and Kurt could feel his knee trembling slightly where it was pressed against his own.

"So, you've liked me for a while," Blaine stated.

"Since you transferred here," Kurt clarified.

There was a brief moment where Blaine looked at him with wide surprised eyes, then he said, "But it took Santana spiking a water bottle with love potion to get you to talk to me." Grinning, he shook his head a little. "If anyone asks how we got together can we not say it was with the help of Santana and a laced water bottle? They might get the wrong impression."

Shyness rapidly fading, Kurt laughed. "Technically they only gave me the nudge I needed to really see you again. What brought us together was that talk under the stairs."

Leaning forward, Blaine tenderly kissed Kurt's cheek. When he sat back, he looked at him contemplatively. "Kurt?" he said slowly.

Reaching for Blaine's hand under the table, Kurt hummed to show he was listening.

"Can you still wear your leather jacket with that t-shirt and messy hair sometimes?"

A sly grin tugged at the corners of Kurt's mouth. "You liked the badboy look, Anderson?"

Blaine just blushed.

Brushing a soft kiss beneath Blaine's ear, Kurt whispered, "Sure thing, my sweet little dork." 

* * *

**A/N: **That was my first attempt at everyone's favourite: badboy!Kurt. Because Kurt wearing leather and having messy hair with maybe a piercing or two is a lovely image.

The idea for this story came from the lyric '_Never quite found love he drank the love potion_' in the Kings of Leon song 'On The Chin'. I was listening to the song while studying one day and when I heard that line this whole story came into my head. Inspiration is a strange thing.

Thanks for reading! :)


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